HINGES

The goddess of hinges

Does not demand much

In the way of sacrifice

A few drops of oil

Are sufficient

Or a word of thanks

When the cupboard door

Doesn’t come off

At your impatient tug.

What better day than

July 4th to celebrate

So quiet a goddess?

IT IS EARLY MORNING, I HAVE HAD NO COFFEE AND BABA YAGA IS ALREADY ON MY CASE

"Your muse is worried," said Baba Yaga,

"Two years almost you've been retired

And you still have not written Paradise Lost."

"Why should I even want to? John Milton beat me to it."

"Dazhe tak, we feel you're growing slack. Even Cardea,

Goddess of door hinges, said so the other day."

"As far as I know, I am Cardea's last worshipper;

If she wants me to write Paradise Lost, tell her

She should, like a proper goddess, come tell me so

In a riddling dream which I can misunderstand

Or disguised as Madonna or Justin Bieber."

BENEFITS

One of the perquisites of being a priest
Of Cardea, goddess of door hinges,
Is that she makes house calls. Spend years
Leaning to pronounce Huitzilopochtli
And sacrifice thousands of prisoners
With your Aztec flint knife until your wrist aches
And your dreams are filled with beating hearts;
The Sun will not even remember your name.
Serve Cardea and when your door squeaks
There she is, with an oilcan and a screwdriver.